The Oracle
by SwiggitySwooty
Summary: One was to destroy; the other, to preserve. Loki finds a girl who may be the key to his victory against the Midgardians. Unfortunately, she isn't as willing as he'd originally thought. Will she be able to stray him from his path before the battle at Manhattan? (Eventual LokixOC. Very eventual. Rated T for gore and language here or there, may be bumped later.)
1. The Oracle

She lay in her plaster white cot, staring up at the equally plaster white ceiling. A ceiling in which, in this concrete cube, was so discourteous as to not even bear cracks to count to space out the monotony one would imagine thrust upon them in said environment. Even so, it mattered not: the discomfort of this practical hospital gurney of a cot, or the stillness of her personal confinement, painted pale to look so much bigger than it was when really it was quite a tiny space, for she was quite entertained anyhow. While she had been staring upward, she wasn't per se actually looking at anything within the dull and lack-of-hued room; she was, in fact, lost within her own mind. What else was there to do than think?

Not much.

She'd been resorting to losing herself quite frequently lately. By lately, she would of course mean the past few years rather, though she didn't care to know specifically how long, she felt it better not to know.

_You'll be here forever~…_

She duly noted. She was a prisoner (though of specific sorts, that is). She hadn't committed any crime worthy of punishment, nay, she would be kept here "for her own good" they say. She wasn't a mental patient either, mind you, if it was to be believed that was the direction this was going. No, something so potentially dangerous should never be allowed to roam free, what if she befell herself into the wrong hands? Non-American hands? Terrorist hands especially!? These were the basic sentiments of the agents personally keeping a too tight watch on her; "For her own good", of course, but,… What was so dangerous about the girl who lay now, in her bunk, arms behind her head and staring carelessly upwards past the ceiling and sky and into her own thoughts, however? She, who wasn't even eighteen yet (but was close, she'd have you know.) What idea was so frightful, that should the wrong search it out and efforts be damned, they succeeded, the organization holding her would have collective and mass heart attacks?

The prospect of a being that could see into the future and know anything she wished about the past was a tricky one indeed. She was what, if Earth had not squashed any magical ability within their populations throughout their witch trials and other such barbaric things, and with proper education on the magical beings throughout their history, would be called A Seer, An Oracle, The Mother of The Nine. She had many titles, those of which, of course, being attributed simply to her abilities. She herself had yet to make a name for herself, and doubted she may ever, but seeing into the future, however, was not an accurate sentiment (and prepare for it to get complicated,). Just like the space within this universe we all reside, is infinite and ever expanding, such are the way of the universes separate our own, and within this infinite set of separate universes each and every possibility exists. These possibilities exist themselves an infinite amount of times, and something as simple as missing a bus can lead you down a sub sequentially different path in life than if you caught it. The thing is, in the ones more familiar to us, some universes haven't yet caught up to us, some are far beyond, in other words, some exist in the past and some, in the future. What the Seer does, or rather _is,_ is the only being within our universe whom has a link to her separate selves outside of her existence within her own. She subconsciously communicates with these copies, and based on the circumstances set before her, she can read through the universes that occur in the future. Whichever has qualities that are looking to lead up to be the most resembling to our own is how she "sees into the future". So, per se, it isn't the future at all. In short, It's looking at which events are happening in her universe, and what happens in the most accurate other, waiting for the two to coalesce or crash into each other, becoming one reality (where one will eventually stem off into its own that makes it unique,). In essence, this ability in and of itself is only particularly useful to its beholder, and with the absolutely vast range of possibilities it's difficult to tell even what's for sure to happen five minutes before it will. So what makes this a dangerous possibility of her is that, again with the prospect of multiverses, for us to be in the reality we are, a certain line of events would have had to take place to lead up to where we are now. This means she will know anything she pleases about the past, through this process described, and through the eyes of her predecessors.

If an individual or an organization were to get their hands on her, the results could very well be catastrophic. The reason for this?

People like to believe lies. Why? So they can feel better within their own beliefs. So they can be more secure and at peace within their own minds. So they can be more or less convinced by their partners that, no, that hideous pair of jeans really doesn't, "make them look fat" as they keep reassuring. (She chuckled at her own analogy). However, back to topic; people… don't like to be taken out of their comfort zone. There's a reason it's called the comfort zone, if you were to step out of it you'd feel very exposed or self conscious, upset or angry even,… all in all very… well, uncomfortable, and people hate to be discomforted, in fact they'll do almost anything to avoid it.

With that in mind, imagine a fundamentally religious person. This person, like many others before him (and likely after,) will have been taught throughout their childhood, the molding years, that whether or not they follow a particular set of rules will determine whether or not they spend the eternity after their being, being rewarded or left to perish like trash. These people are taught that they must be flawless, and abide to the letter the rules of their gods lest they be tossed into the incinerator, abandoned. They are taught that a single hand, or hands, of the divine hold them over a fire like some sort of vermin, and these hands may drop them anytime they please, should the follower stray from their belief system.

This mentality, respectively, holds little wiggle room within its comfort zone. Now suppose a stranger comes along telling them that their god indeed is not right, or their god had actually different policies than illustrated previously. If this being can prove they've been going about things wrong for the centuries the people's religion has existed, there will be an imminent uproar. There will be the disbelievers, the loyalists. They will stick to their practiced manners. There would be those who were willing to embrace the changing ways. This will always be the way of things. As will always be the two imminently clashing with one another, and judging by the past clashing of the religious parties, it couldn't be a pretty occurrence.

Religion isn't the only complication that could come of her apprehension from some obscure organization unbeknownst. There would be political worries right along with it. Every country will have it's inevitable secrets. Every country will have plans for a potential attack on even the closest allies should they try to stab the other in the back, metaphorically… or perhaps literally, if you'd like to go the assassination route. Every country is just as nosy as the next, and if it could it would be spying on the other in less than a heartbeat, without a second thought.

But some countries would not be happy to know their neighbors had such plans to strike them down if need be, or such methods to keep an eye on them. Political moves, elections, strikes on another country, the reasons for previous war, lies, lies, lies. These secrets be known every nation would be ready to topple the other and the people ready and willing to topple their own. World wars would explode into blinding magnitudes of red; anarchies sprout around the globe like weeds.

It would be devastating.

These are the beliefs beholden of SHIELD, in regards to the one whom we call the Oracle. The Oracle, however; who is this being? Who is this one who deems themselves a seer? The Mother of the Nine? Is there anything special about this being outside of her little more than extraordinary ability?

Not overly.

Sayuri Chiyo Lin is within every right, a visually unique girl; a bold mix of Norwegian and Chinese, if you were to cast a glance as she walked down a street she'd be relatively hard to miss. White locks gleamed against the sun, akin to the snow of which country her mother originated. They seemed silken as they lengthened down to her mid-back, unless she would deem to fashion them into an array of braids she usually would. Her skin was pale as pale was imaginable. It was, however, a charming tone, no undesirable pastiness, or unwelcome lines of blue dramatically contrasting just from underneath. Her eyes were an icy azure that was only comparable to the most vibrant of icebergs that lined the northernmost shores, boldly contrasting her other features along with her rosy pink lips.

Her mother, from Norway originally, moved to the Americas at a young age. She'd coined the name for her daughter when one day, long before her own conception, she'd sat down to watch a movie called Memoirs of a Geisha; she decided from that point on, of her first watching, that should the not-yet mother have a girl one day, she would name her after Chiyo-Sayuri, from said movie of which she had fallen in love with. If there was a better name to who would be so, in her mind, so beautiful and graceful as mentioned protagonist (if not more so) then she would have gladly taken it, but to her, there would be nothing to beat it. Later then, her mother met her father; a man from China who'd recently himself immigrated in search of better opportunity here in the United States,… the rest would be history; the kind of which, Sayuri didn't plan on looking back on. It was funny in a way, Sayuri thought sometimes, to have names from both countries, China and Japan, but she accepted it anyhow. She was who she was and it was far from changeable now.

All of this in mind, even if you were to see her on your daily commute, chances were you'd never expect her to be much special beyond her looks. No one would suspect her of being the singular link between the nine realms and any other universe that has ever existed or may to come. Of course, this was with respective reasoning. Thanks to SHEILD, of course, no one had a thought in their mind that such a being may exist and so none would know of her existence until it was upon them. And, if Sayuri had her way, it would be upon them.

At the end of the day, the poor girl was still just a prisoner. She could think herself as far from the place that she was as she could, but in all truth, it'd do her no good. She'd be brought back to reality, usually harshly, with an agent stalking their way into her cell with a multitude of questions to ask, shaking her on the verge of violently from one of her few ways to escape the creeping hell that was incarceration. Other times, it would be doctors or scientists shortly followed by a troupe of elite guards to escort her to whatever test they'd have prepped for her, or procedures to run. Mercy to all who become the interest of a scientist when the laws of ethics aren't on your side.

The worst day of her life to date had been shortly after the doctors, (who were assigned to figure out just all what this was and why she could do the things she could; trying to give a logical explanation to what it was besides the ever elusive to the race of humans, subject of magic) had discovered a natural healing agent within her bloodstream. It had seemed, whatever force had created her had sensed the harm that may be done to these special individuals called oracles, and had prepared in advance for it; but times like those when they'd tried to demonstrate the limits of said property, and then to reverse engineer something that could be used for their own purposes, Sayuri couldn't have thought this being crueler to let her live through such tortures.

Trying to use it to their advantage wasn't, in all reality, such a bad thing, as it had mostly consisted of simple blood work done every now and again; the rest of the work was up to the scientists and medical experts. However, when it came time for them to demonstrate just how far they could push their boundaries with this agent, before she could no longer heal… this was where things started taking a turn for the worse.

They'd sat her down in her usual chair for when they'd usually do such horrible things to her. Meanwhile she'd been preparing for simple needles, doctors had begun bringing out surgical knives, respectively making Sayuri less comfortable with the aspect that these would no longer be simple jabs, but rather nice, neat little cuts. They had had the courtesy to numb her arm before they set to work, making quick and shallow cuts along the limb. She watched curiously, it was one of the first times she couldn't feel what they were doing; either she'd always been awake and completely lucid, or her operations were too drastic to do without the adding of anesthetic. Like one time, she'd woken up with a nice big bandage wrapping itself around her crania. Turns out they'd decided to pick her brain – quite literally. The thought of why they would have needed to, or the fact that they did, and what if something had happened; they could have killed her and it would've just been like that, made her almost sick to her stomach. She would have just been gone, no questions; never to wake again until she found herself in her next reincarnation.

Then they decided to move onto her other arm when the results weren't as quick as they as they deemed acceptable. They'd taken the scalpel, and repeated the lines they done across the opposite. Sayuri had to hold her breath in as they did to keep in her gasps at the cold metal slicing her epidermis apart, cut by cut. She was used to pain so she could bear this, she wouldn't let them win this time if she'd remained silent for so long before.

"Agent responds to pain." One of the doctors muttered amongst their peers, but mainly to themselves as she went to go write down the newly observed information on a notepad, another taking her place. As it turns out, pain is what prompts the agent into acting. If a Seer can't feel what is happening to them, even if they themselves can _see what's happening_, but they can't feel, then the agent doesn't rush to fix it. The agent is designed, as the doctors would later conclude, to keep the brain running and undistracted for as long as possible; keeps the Oracle's visions going, instead of them being worried about a wound. It was doing its job too, admittedly. Sayuri watched the tiny wounds closing back until they were merely little lines of white that would, in short time, themselves fade into her skin.

But it would only get worse with this discovery. The cuts became deeper and more drastic, and each time she healed, Sayuri would only wish it to cease so the medical team would stop with their treatment. It didn't stop however. Once she'd recovered from a cut deep to the bone, Sayuri thought herself done as they began to pack up. She'd been preparing to remove herself from the seat when she'd be stuck with a sedative, and soon after everything would go black.

She woke in what seemed an instant later with a blinding light shining into her eyes from above and what, rather whom, she'd realize to be a different team of medical professionals looking over her. It was the surgical team, she'd come to know them as, and usually whenever she woke up she'd realize she had some nasty looking stitched-up wound or something of the like. She went to sit herself up to see just what it was this time but found herself wishing she hadn't. Pain came rushing to her midriff, exploding all over her body; it was unlike anything she'd ever felt, and she began to panic. She looked down to notice that the pain had not been for nothing, in fact, it was very well deserved. A T-cut, straight down her stomach and opened to splay her insides for all to see; the room swirled, and suddenly she thought she might be sick. Her vision became no more than tunnels, filtering out everything that wasn't going to be her way to escape whatever had induced such a fight or flight reaction. Ultimately, the doctors would have to hold her down lest she – further – and/or fatally injure herself, explaining that they only wanted to see if she would be able to heal from some a grievous wound should she need to.

In the end she would cooperate, and cooperate well she would, for she had no choice. She wouldn't have liked to encourage such behavior on the doctors/scientists part, that this kind of treatment was okay because she could heal herself… or that they could maybe even go further with their actions, but it wasn't up to her whether or not she healed from this, despite all the pain it'd caused her; the action was as involuntary as her heart beating. Even then, if they went any further, Sayuri was certain she'd end up with a lost limb, or at least a finger. She may have been able to recover from it judging on how she did with their last trial, but she'd rather not have to know either way for now, and for now she wouldn't. They were done for that day. That day. They'd once tried to infect the wound to see if she could recover from this as well; but all of her wounds were now healing too quickly for any infection to take hold. It'd like it'd become faster, like they'd been conditioning it to be so. It probably was, admittedly.

Besides delving deep into her thoughts or a scalpel delving deep into her, there were actually some other things she could do at the compound. It wasn't very many things, realistically, but it was enough to keep her from beating her head on the wall out of misery and boredom.

She'd actually been set up with quite the artist's tools; pens, pencils, paper, canvasses of all sizes, paint and brushes. The assortment would make any artist salivate. She absolutely dreaded the paint, to be completely honest, however. Amazing things could be made with it, sure, and she heartily applauded those who could make those infernal brushes bend to their will, but it just wasn't for her. Try as she may, she knew not how to make the paint go where she pleased, so it was generally unused until a day when she's feeling adventurous, and has forgotten why she doesn't. She found a pencil was nice and precise, though, so drawing wasn't out of the question. Nay, drawing was one of her most favorite things to do.

Mostly, she liked to draw landscapes and kingdoms. The gentle and rolling hills, contrasted darkly by the fierce cliffs that overlook a stormy sea below… stone and mortar castles, reminding us of a time long since passed within the lands of the Celtic… it was one of her favorites. It could hardly compare, however, to the glorious and gold Asgard, where everything to behold was a wonder to an eye of a mere mortal. She found herself often admiring the place, and she had access to the whole of everything in existence and out of it too. The pre-cataclysmic Empire of Atlantis, she thought to herself, had an architectural charm that was fairly reminiscent to that of ancient Greece and Rome… but with their taste for such gaudy things she would have named them closer to Asgard, in all truth.

She could also roam the complex. When she says roam, however, she really means being followed around and have her every moved be watched by at least a triad of elite guards, tagging shortly behind her; they were armed to the teeth and ready to exterminate anything and everything that potentially posed a threat to her… or wrangle her back, should she try to make a run for it... which, she of course had before.

Despite having guards on her arm at all times, Sayuri most liked to visit the soldiers whenever she went out. They were nice to her and most of them had been in this situation right along with the girl since her arrival. They switched out every six months or so, and a second set would replace them, whilst the first either went home to their families or got deported into war. After another six months, the second would switch out and the first would return; it was very uncommon to see a new face. Not all of them always come back, however, being deported to battle… but then she can see them alive and well within another universe and she can smile once more. No one is ever truly gone.

She closed her eyes, allowing herself to dwell on such thoughts. If she could help it, she always aimed to end a day on a happier note than it'd likely begun, and it wasn't every day she had the luxury of doing so; occasional bandages littering her skin would remind her of this, and what would potentially be coming the next day. These days she found it hard to imagine an existence where simply this was her life…

BANG!

Her thoughts were interrupted when a loud and combustive sound somewhere in the far distance from her cell had forced her from them, sending her eyes flying open in an acknowledgement to the rude reality check. She sat up in her cot, looking confusedly at the door, eyes as big as dinner-plates when she heard the repetitive rattattat of machine guns in response to the disturbance. They were under attack. She was too afraid to look at her attackers… as much as SHIELD had mistreated her, they were familiar in a way, and whatever this was… she wasn't sure… it could be for the better?

'It's most certainly for the worst.' A nasty voice sneered at her from somewhere within her mind, and it effectively kept her from using her abilities to find out what exactly was in store for her should it get far enough. Meanwhile she could practically feel the nearby souls leaving this world. Her soldiers and guards were probably in a frenzy at this… whatever it was, fighting with all their might… but the sounds of war kept growing and growing… their attacker wasn't going down without a fight.

It was as if absolute chaos had erupted just outside of her door, and it went on for what seemed like hours. In reality, it was probably only about, say, ten minutes. Guns and various explosions sounded from seemingly everywhere and it was hard to pinpoint a source of exactly who was where, or what weapons were being used for what sides. Occasional shouting and sounds of the dying could be heard between fired shots and as much as Sayuri would have liked to have covered her ears, wither eyes screwed shut to block out the sounds,… she couldn't. She would acknowledge every death there was to be had, and while this situation was out of her hands, the fallen soldiers' efforts wouldn't be taken in vain; not in her eyes. Turn not a blind eye to tragedy, lest you be doomed to it once more.

Then, the noise ceased. It was deafeningly quiet compared to how loud and active everything had been just a moment before. Sayuri, if she hadn't had visions of them before, wouldn't have believed how loud guns were. Even with visions, she couldn't imagine being the one to wield such a noisy weapon unless you were partially deaf… and by the sounds of it, you probably would be if you kept the use up.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard boots on metal just in front of her door. She held her breath. Either it would be the leader of the complex, coming to tell her that the attacker had been killed, or it _was_ her attacker. If it was the leader, then she lived a continued life of incarceration, with daily medical and scientific experiment done on her person, and assuredly her psyche as well. If it was the attacker; she faced a world of unknown. This unknown had the potential to be for the better, but it could also be much worse. So very, much worse. She knew not which she would prefer.


	2. The Catalyst

Whoo, long time for an update, eh?

(In the past I've been able to churn out these bad boys like once a day… oh well, time equals quality, yes?)

Anywho, first things first! I'd like to give a shout-out to lovewar66 who wrote my first review on this fanfic! (You're awesome, by the way!) Second, a big thanks to everyone else who favorited and followed! You have no idea how happy it makes me to see that my story is being enjoyed. ^_^

Thirdly! Yes this is a shorter chapter. Think of the first like a premier to a t.v. show; not as long but (hopefully!) just as good. Should cut some of the update time too without having to worry about making every one 4,000 words.

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The door burst apart, flying across a good length of the room, followed shortly by bright energetic streaks of blue that seemed to span like lightning across its parameter, yet, interestingly billowed like smoke. They swirled and faded out of existence as soon as they'd been brought into the world, and Sayuri could have sworn she'd felt an incredible heat on her pale skin just a moment prior, but had left along with the brief lights. It had seemed to be an electrical discharge of some kind or other, so it wasn't fully unlikely; she'd have to check for burns later… but for now her icy stare was locked on the doorway where a figure stood, despite that the thick, metal door that belong to said doorway had landed just inches in front of where she sat, which had the definitive capacity to crush her under its weight.

The figure stepped through, and Sayuri could get a good first look at her attacker. Much too tall to be the compound director, she quickly noted amongst herself – in fact, the person was exceptionally tall. Even if she'd been standing when this had all transpired around her, and then having her cell so rudely intruded into, he still would have dwarfed her measly height. He had long locks the shade of that of a raven's feathers, falling down to his shoulders that curved and stuck out like needles at the ends. His skin was a pale shade that wasn't unlike Sayuri's, but… his seemed to harbor a kind of sickly tone; like he'd been out of the sun for much too long, or been suffering from a terrible stress... maybe even an illness. She paid no mind to this however; this individual would be causing much more in the results of this single day, and there was no excusing what he had done. Countless families would be receiving many letters of lost sons, brothers, and fathers and all it'd taken this man was a few minutes to cause such devastation. It was revolting.

He ambled closer, a seemingly leisurely pace that contrasted a minor array of cuts here or there, marbling his skin in what looked like bullet grazing, driving Sayuri from her thoughts as she eyed him once more. She was reminded of a predatory animal, closing in on their prey, backing it into a corner only to tease it some, before tearing its throat from its neck an unpredicted, yet inevitable, moment later. Examining him further, she realized he was familiar to her after all. She hadn't seen him with her own eyes, physically, but within her visions she'd seen him countless times…

Yes… yes, it was all there. The hair, the skin… the clothes should have been a tell-tale sign. She didn't know of many who dressed as he in their everyday lives – Midgardian or non – the coat, the armor; the colors on their own, the greens and golds, weren't common among mortals, and especially not the peasants of the Asgardian race. She was looking as an Asgardian Prince. Which one, she also knew now incredibly well, and quick glances over his features were all she needed for proof. All in all, his face was very… Roman… but what especially stood out were his eyes. Forest green, with a special glint for mischief… this was, indeed, Loki.

Her predecessor had known him. Not incredibly well, but enough for his first impression on her to have a strange sense of familiarity. She'd been an Asgardian in the aforementioned past life, and one of the most notable of her accomplishments as the Oracle of her time had been with her hand in helping to secure the realm of Midgard. She had been a talented warrior, and fought mightily in the years of Bor – long before Odin, and then along the king's son's side through many battles, and finally the Great War against the Jotuns; many a victory those days had been in aid by her, and later she'd become no stranger to his children after the time of war. It could almost feel as if it were _she, _Sayuri, who'd been there on that day to scold an adolescent Thor, after coming across the blonde trying to bludgeon his brother with the newly acquired Mjolnir.

She'd even left her own legacy to the Asgardian world before her call to battle, and quite a legacy he was. He still stood, alive and well to this day, succeeding a hefty amount of his Mother's abilities, on the Bifrost watching over the nine; a still sentry. Heimdall was his name… and Sayuri found it perplexing, and endearing in a way that her past life's posterity still existed in time with her, even once the previous soul had moved on. He was aged now, but Sayuri suspected he had a great deal of years left in him. He'd certainly outlive this Midgardian form, and sometimes she wondered if he could see her; what he thought about her.

"Loki." Sayuri stated. It wasn't a question, it was an address; no more than a simple acknowledgment to his presence, whilst her eyes never left his, even as he slowed to a halt. No doubt he was formulating something within his mind to respond with.

"Your reputation precedes you, but you are talented indeed." He made no motions indicating that he was to step any further. He'd obviously found the right place; only mere seconds ago had he revealed himself to her, and she'd already known who he was.

Clever.

Although, he reminded himself, if her sight was nearly as developed as Heimdall's, which he imagined it could very well be, she could have seen as far back as his planning of the attack; the girl could have seen it coming and simply bided her time here until it happened. She may be a young Oracle but he failed to read of one who wasn't brilliant. There may be unaccomplished Seers, but that didn't mean an innumerable majority of them weren't just as wizened as any other.

"I'm assuming you haven't come on the basis of simple flattery?" The white-haired girl quipped at him, though her tone remained surprisingly even. Loki had yet to tell whether this demeanor was anger or indifference. What he'd seen of her through the Tesseract was unrevealing, and she seemed as unreadable, and – he presumes – as unpredictable as her predecessor had been. The previous Oracle had been an old woman by the time he could finally remember much, but she was still as wily as any other maiden Loki's own age; on the other hand, however, if anyone made her angry, she could raise Hel like no other, and the only barrier between her attitude changes were a thin and fragile line.

"You are correct." He began to move to her once more, minding the crumpled metal door in his way. Her only response was to shift her position on the cot just a bit, and it wasn't to back down; she only sat up straighter. Her expression did change somewhat, also. Instead of the blank slate it had been a half second prior, she was now eyeing him with a quizzical glare. He could at least read this one with relative ease, though, which he found some comfort in, but the look itself was somewhat unsettling for his cause: 'I don't trust you, but I'll hear what you have to say.'

He could pull through if he chose his words carefully though.

He continued on, as he made his way over. "So many injustices done – if they had it their way you would never see the light of day again. Very sad, that is; you don't deserve such treatment." He purred with a voice that dripped thick with deceit like honey. He reached out a single hand once he'd stopped just under a foot away from her, whilst the other went to curl around his back like some snake, a staff in hand that she had somehow failed to notice before… she presumes she was too busy trying to analyze who and why one of the two Asgardian princes was standing in front of her. He bent slightly at the knees as to better get on her level; overall it looked more like a courteous bow in respects to her than anything, and Sayuri had no doubt this was intentional. A very gentlemanly approach to woo her favor over to him; what she hadn't predicted of the Asgardian was to be so typical.

"I'm here to grant you asylum." He concluded with the offer, explaining the gesture. She was to take his hand if she accepted.

Her eyes seemed to phase past him in the next few moments, and she became distant. Much more distant than Loki would have admittedly liked; without a question she was reading thoroughly through his intentions and words, and he waited patiently for her presumed visions to end. She may not be willing to come with him but she would one way or other. Would the girl come to realize this, she would prove at least intelligible. Loki, after all, was a very ambitious man, and only a fool would think her simple refusal would stop him here after his attack on now a total of two SHIELD bases.

She then rose from her cot after deciding on a course of action, side-stepping around him, and heading for the door frame who lacked its counterpart; she'd completely ignored his outreached hand, which something about the silent but expressive mannerism told Loki he was going to have a difficult time with her, and internally cursed. 'At least she's complying.' He reminded himself as he turned to walk with her as she made her way into and down the hallway that was almost unfamiliar in what it had become; things were scattered and lights flickered from the magical interference in the air. Not unlikely it was from Loki's staff. What most struck Sayuri though, were a surplus of bodies lining the ground, of which she'd have to step over a good few times throughout her trek through the compound.

She recognized them too, and made a mental note to pray for them in their afterlife, wherever it may be they choose to go, as well as their families who were no doubt to be in grieving soon.

They made their way through the complex. It wasn't particularly difficult to tell the way out; all you had to do was follow the path of destruction and carnage. It also wasn't long before they came upon a car parked in the garage. The trip from her cell to where they were now was relatively short in retrospect; if she'd only gotten a little further that first time she'd tried to run then maybe she could have made it… She was brought out of her considering when the engine, belonging to stated car, roared to life; its driver had apparently noticed Loki drawing near with his quarry, however this didn't stop her from startling at the sound. She hadn't heard the rev of a car engine in a very long time… she hadn't heard a lot of things in a very long time when she thought about it… her reaction, however, hadn't gone unnoticed, to which Loki responded by gripping her arm harshly. She lowered her brows at the contact, but then remembered he probably didn't fancy her trying to run off now, and she'd startled him herself with the notion. She nearly laughed at the thought she could outrun the giant on her own. She may be an Oracle, but being an Oracle doesn't make you super-human... or super-Asgardian, or super-Jotun… whichever race she got reincarnated into… Basically the only physical plus you get being an Oracle is healing. Considering what she'd been through with this, however, it wasn't much in her eyes.

She shrugged her arm from his already loosening grip after it was clear she hadn't been about to attempt an escape. The faux Asgardian stepped ahead to open one of the car doors – one of the back ones – for her to get in. She stopped for only a second, but that second was long enough to give him one of the most quizzical and an 'I'm-insulting-your-intelligence-whilst-promptly-j udging-you' expressions he'd ever seen. It would have been befitting of Sif, he thought wryly to himself, the thought of the traitor leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He was drawn out of the quick thought when the certain white-haired girl moved straight past him for the second time this day. She obviously held an extreme lack of hostage etiquette, he noted to himself whilst she climbed her way into the passenger seat after calling loudly: "Shotgun!" and suddenly it was his turn to look confused. There was no way she could be underestimating her situation; there couldn't be. She was his prisoner now, yet she acted like they were simply going around the block for ice cream…

'I was right…' he thought to himself as he settled into the back seat, deciding the point was of no importance so there wasn't a need for arguing, 'this girl is going to make my life Hel.'

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Poor Loki. That girl's never gonna give him a break if she can help it.

Hope you liked this chapter even if it is a bit shorter! See you next time I post!


	3. The Base

"Got your seat jacked, eh?" The driver poked at the trickster god, a mischievous tone peppering his own voice for a nearly first time. The car lurched forward and they begun to move, making a slow and leisurely way out of the complex now that any threat had been taken care of; she assumed with the collective help of the god and the driver based on that a bow sat on his side, opposite her. Probably a good move, keeping it out of her reach, but he failed to realize she could reach over and pull an arrow right from the quiver. Any weapon is an effective one in the hands of those who knew what they were doing; consequently, however, any weapon in the hands of someone who didn't was still just as dangerous, but to a larger percent of people around said person. Sayuri assumed she fell into the latter category. Her ancestor may have been a warrior, but that doesn't mean she would make a successful one as well. Just as some of her previous lives were painters; see where that got her.

She continued to eye the driver for a bit; she knew him too… but unlike Loki, she'd seen this person with her own eyes before. So, Loki had a man on the inside? This was, she could now assume, how they'd made such an easy way into the base in the first place. He was an agent of SHIELD; usually kept around for security, or sometimes to do their dirty work. It made sense in a way… he was quiet, always perched somewhere, keeping an observant eye on everyone below. He wasn't always around; he came by maybe a week out of every month, but still, it wasn't a doubt that the man would know his way around the place, and no doubt he knew just what was happening to her meanwhile. Loki's intentions may not have been pure, but perhaps his were.

Something was out of sorts though; though it wasn't exactly unnoticeable, now that she saw it; his eyes. Streaks of blue not unlike those she had seen earlier with the god making his forceful way into her room. The pupils were narrowed to simple dots, and overall, the look made Sayuri somewhat unsettled, and she suddenly considered his intentions weren't perhaps his own. She looked back into a side mirror at the aforementioned Asgardian in the back seat, or more importantly, at the staff. What manner of power did it hold? Was it by any way correlated to Clint?

Generally the rest of him had remained the same however; short brown hair and a skin-tight suit made of blacks and purples so dark they may as well have been black along with the rest of the outfit. His face was grazed with the light shadowing it usually was and his skin tone reminded her of a good portion of the soldiers at her complex. Dark enough to mean he actually got out some, but not by much. This had been the sentiments of the others at the compound for a while now; most of them could be found milling about in the gym trying to keep their muscle mass despite their own lack of activity, or out in the yard doing some training exercises to keep their drills up to date. Her incarceration hadn't been a curse on just her.

The only thing missing were his green eyes, replaced instead by blue.

"Tell me, Clint; are you here on your own accord?" She inquired with a brow quirked in his direction. She could have easily found out on her own, but she finds she prefers to hear things herself every now and again. It may not be relatively important whether he was or wasn't with the situation she was in anyhow, so it may not be immediately imperative she did find out the truth. What was important, in any case, was how strong this bond was if it was indeed Clint's only reason for being here; a magical bond is usually a strong one, but sometimes the willpower of a being is enough to break it. Clint has a strong soul, and Oracles are well known for their formidably stubborn wills, but sometimes it could never be enough. This is what was in need of finding out. If this tool was used against her, and she was right about it's potential, could she fight it? Will she have to play along with whatever the god has in mind, or will she be free to do as she pleases?

His face changed for a second. A glint of something that was hard to determine. Whatever the expression had been wasn't of importance; that there had been a noticeable change was what was of note here.

"Yes." He answered, but the answer, she now knew, wasn't from Clint. Evil energy practically radiated off of the instrument that sat behind her in the hands of the Asgardian. It was a powerful tool in the sense of a weapon, she could see… what it had done to the soldier's… it was a fearful mechanism of this sense indeed… but as for keeping a sentient being's mind, it was really very weak. If a mere Midgardian could question the staff's authority (even for a fraction of a second so infinitesimally short, this display was monumental), then what would it mean for a magical being such as herself? Not very much.

As it were, Loki probably had to regularly reassert his jurisdiction over Clint. She wondered for a bit if he had more people under the staff's influence, and if any of them were as determined as the archer, how did he keep them all in check? She wondered if he ever came back to find any of them having ran off, and the idea was almost comical.

"I see." This was all she said. She had no more attention to pay on the topic anyhow; they were nearing the end of the garage and soon to be into the outside world. It'd been years she'd been under artificial lights, and this would be her first time in a long time to be under the sun. Only once before in her entirety of encampment had she gone outside…

There it was. Between the leaves of the trees overhead, she could see it shining through the canopy. A sense of happiness overcame her and she admired everything around her. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue, accompanied with puffed white clouds. It looked like something out of a postcard. The trees were varying shades of greens and oranges verging on reds. 'It must be fall time.' She noted blankly to herself. She had a concept of the seasons, and she did have a calendar in her cell, but being inside for the most of them had for some reason separated the two in her mind. She looked once more in the mirror to see them leaving behind the stark white building that was the compound she'd practically grown up in, and even in her situation, even if the manner of which this all was happening she wished could have been different… she found it refreshing to be leaving it all behind in it's forest setting. She could at least appreciate that they'd built it in such a lovely place; most were in desert locations. Others were up in Alaska, in the freezing cold. She couldn't have asked for more to be entertained with in the very few and far between times she did leave.

She cast a glance down to the buttons on the side of the door, and fumbled around with a few whilst looking for the one which would control the window. It took her a couple tries; one to unlock her door in vain, due to Clint locking it back up as immediately as she'd done so in the first place, and another to unlock Loki's door. Loki, obviously becoming a bit annoyed with her shenanigans, offered her the one which he thought she may be looking for after seeing the first wasn't, apparently, what she was after. "It's the top one." He said simply, and shortly after the telltale sound of a window being rolled down was heard, and he himself could feel a breeze on his face.

"Thanks," she muttered distractedly, before Clint locked her controls of mentioned window once it were about halfway down its entire length. She wasn't, after all, buckled in and easily could, with her size (or rather lack thereof,) attempt to jump out. Clint doubted he wouldn't be able to grab her before she could, but he didn't want to keep an eye on her the entire way. She muttered something under her breath in response to this, but accepted the reality rather quickly. She hadn't been looking to escape anyhow; she just wanted the window down, so it wasn't exactly a point that needed arguing on. With hindsight twenty-twenty however, it would have been a good tactic.

Sitting herself closer to the window, she leant her weight against it. Propping up an arm on the space she could that was just at the base of the mentioned window, she rested her chin on a flattened palm and gazed upwards at the canopy and sky above. The fresh air only made it all the much better, in her own opinion. Her eyes fluttered closed as her hair began to whip around as they increased their pace back towards the road to wherever they may be headed. She didn't mind the sensation; the cool felt good on her face. In her complex it was always set at exactly seventy five degrees. She was never hot, nor was she ever cold. If there was one thing to not miss, it was the still air.

She exhaled heavily. She may be in a car with her kidnapper and his temporal lackey, but _this_… this was serenity.

"Enjoying yourself?" the Asgardian examined. It had been a long time since she'd experienced these things; of this, even he was aware, and had been wondering what her reaction to such would be. Judging by what he'd seen through the Tesseract, and knowing of how humans aged… it was probably a decade she'd been regarded as simple property of SHIELD (of course, Midgardian ages were much easier to tell with the children. After they hit their adulthood it's a bit harder to tell,). A decade of incarceration of an Asgardian was nothing, but to a Midgardian this was such a large fraction of their lifetime. He wondered vaguely how they could do this to another of their kind. They only lived for a handful of decades each, and to take one away like this was barbaric. Another cruelty of human beings, Loki decided.

"I was." She bantered, and he realized this was his first interaction, at least verbally, with the new Oracle; telling him that she'd instead rather enjoyed when he hadn't been talking. She'd ignored him otherwise, and it was now made clear she wasn't a particular fan of his; either this or she was intent on making him wish he hadn't gotten her from the bloody complex in the first place, for reasons unbeknownst to him. She should be grateful, he thought, after what they'd done to her. 'Maybe she had that Midgardian condition… what was it called? Stockholm?' he thought idly amongst himself. 'Or this is how she is…' This was a possibility, but he didn't much like this prospect either.

It was a rather long ride back to where they'd been planning on taking her, and curiously many freeways had been part of it. Very crowded place for who was a very wanted man. Sayuri didn't even have to guess there were people who wanted Loki's hide. She didn't even have to use her visions. If a man were so bold to come barging onto one of the most formidable organizations of the world's backyard then chances were he was already in deep trouble, and she was a last resort. A bargaining chip to maybe another in different circumstances, or in her case, a tool to be used. She didn't particularly care for this comparison, but she was no fool; unless this man really was worse than SHIELD, then she wouldn't be actively trying to escape. SHIELD would be eager to get her back, and she couldn't fight them off alone. This was her only chance of freedom.

They'd discussed terms some along the way, and it was rather awkward when she'd had to explain that her visions weren't particularly helpful to anyone but her; truthful visions were almost as close as a few seconds before they were to happen, what with all the variables provided. Loki determined in the end, it would be better to have her than not; the only ones now who were really aware of this were him and Barton, besides of course, the girl. The enemy would be pathetically tripping over their own feet with second guessing because of what they thought she was capable. This could inadvertently give him an upper hand.

They also had come to the agreement that, upon a potential victory, from Sayuri's point of view, and a guaranteed victory, from Loki's point of view, she would be granted free reign afterwards, no worry left for SHIELD. Sayuri quite liked this idea, and it was nice in theory, but she wouldn't be getting her hopes up. She'd tried to escape once, and this once she'd seen the true capability of SHIELD and what they were willing to do to get her back. Even if the organization _did_ lose, she couldn't imagine they'd all give up in trying to find her. Some were so rooted in their beliefs that she was the answer to something, some war plan, or peace even for some… there would be many remnants left of SHIELD who would only go down with their deaths if that's the sacrifice they'd be forced to make to get her back.

As long as her freedom hung in the balance, she'd promised to cooperate with his plans, however. It wasn't so simple though, unfortunately for Loki; she refused to actively help him. The closest he was getting was that she was going to play an illusion of helping him, and that was it. She was going to neither hinder nor aid him in any way that wasn't indirect, because, and quote 'whatever he was planning anyhow was going to result in the deaths of many people, and she didn't want a part of it.' She also didn't want a part of SHIELD, and for respective reason.

It was a difficult decision, and all over, Sayuri wasn't exactly confident the right choice has been made yet. She'd consider it over the next few days; wait to learn more of his plans before truly agreeing on her own plan of action.

The car stopped, and Sayuri took a quick moment to look over where she'd be staying for the next… however long. They moved from the car and began deeper into the building. It wasn't very impressive, to say the least. The atmosphere was dark and dreary… possibly dirty. There was no plant life or animals to speak of, due to being somewhere within the city. Incandescent lights flickered overhead as they traversed down the hallways, needing an obvious changing, and giving the girl a slight aching in her head in response to the rapid lighting and lack thereof. Overall, It screamed 'villain lives here', and Sayuri had to admit she wasn't nearly fond of it, and didn't care to hide her distaste, grimacing at a puddle of something unknown in a corner that she could have sworn seen move, like something out of a Ghostbusters movie…

Loki made it known to a throng of guards that they were to be keeping an eye on her, and soon him and Barton departed, no likely to plan something nefarious, and leaving her on her own. It was kind of refreshing that someone trusted her enough to leave her to her own devices… or they trusted their guards enough to not slack on the job. As long as she wasn't heading for the exit, anyways, they had no cause for concern so she began to wander about in the opposite direction.

There weren't very many guards, she'd come to note, after visiting a number of rooms mostly composed of scientists instead; she wasn't sure whether this was or wasn't a welcome change, to be fairly honest. Guards at the compound were assigned to her protection (even if they had no real cause for alarm until this day), whereas the scientists were the ones to do the dirty work. Their overwhelming numbers somewhat unsettled the white-haired girl, and upon seeing some familiar faces, this only increased. Sayuri quickly found that finding a place not so full of at the top of her priorities, and she started off for a place more abandoned then anything. If there was a place devoid of both guards and scientists alike, she would gladly welcome herself to it.

That's when she found the kitchen.

She poked her head in. There was absolutely no one in this room! Completely desolate, she couldn't say she wasn't surprised. There were always people in the cafeteria back at the complex; in fact it was one of the most lively places. Tales would be told of wars and a soldier's past, or rather the newest prank they'd played on Jones. As much as it were full, obviously none of the very good food survived long, most of it having already been taken by time she got there… or simply there was none to speak of. She stepped delicately over to the fridge, wondering blankly whether anyone would mind her rooting around, but as soon as she pulled open the door nothing else mattered. A grin spread over her features; no crummy jail-quality food for her from now on.

~~ An hour or so later ~~

A slight panic had ensued Sayuri's inexplicable disappearance, after having just come to their base. The soldiers had kept an eye on the exit, they swore by it, but that didn't explain where she had gone. It was only a bit later after searching had Loki himself come upon where she had been 'hiding' to find a perfectly despicable scene by standards of etiquette.

Sayuri was sat in a chair, slumped over a table, fast asleep. This wouldn't have been anything to shake your head over, which Loki now found himself doing, but rather everything else about it was absolutely... it was indescribable in it's horror. It looked as if a tornado had hit this singular room or a war had taken place in it, and he didn't think he could ever have been so ashamed of someone he didn't know, but… he was. Wrappers littered the floor, empty bags of chips being laid to waste. A jar of M&Ms found no mercy, and he even found a half-eaten donut stuffed with them among the wreckage of everything else. A quarter of a stick of salami could be found in the microwave, who's walls were covered with something he probably didn't want to know what it was. Condiments covered the walls of the room itself, and he found himself wondering how she even accomplished this if she hadn't meant to do it on purpose. Whip-cream covered her face, and only then did he notice the ceiling and decide he was done. She looked pleased with herself too, even if in a food-induced coma, yet all he could do was slowly close the door, and pretend he hadn't witnessed the horror that was this room.

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So you know the scene from Daddy Daycare where the little boy says he missed the toilet, and Eddie Murphy goes to check the damage? All I can picture is this being Loki's reaction to that last paragraph. (If you haven't seen this, I recommend looking it up. It fits the scene too well).

(and please someone get my Land of the Lost reference.)

Also! To address one of my reviews; there will be action coming soon. It is unlikely that Sayuri will be part of it however; as stated in the story, she doesn't think she'd make a good warrior. Most of the fighting is probably to be done by Loki and the Avengers (and friends).


	4. Feign

Wow, now _this_ was a long time to wait for an update, eh? Sorry for such a long wait, I've been pretty busy lately, not to mention .TED. Haven't had any time for writing ANY of my stories lately, just as soon as I get done with school work, I crawl into bed thinking 'eh, I'll work on it tomorrow' and then boom. It's the day after. Well, even if delayed, I hope it's as good as the last.

Also! I promised action, and here it is. Enjoy. (Even if I am a little out of practice writing these scenes).

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Nick Fury was at a crossroads. He could, on one hand, opt to tell his ragtag group of warriors that the same essential, and in every way applicable, terrorist and warmonger that had made off with the Tesseract, had also managed to make off with one of the most important biological anomalies they had yet to discover. This matter of handling, however, was not ideal; not when there was an ex-POW amongst the few and would potentially see the girl's incarceration as the same sort of situation, and not for what it was. It was a scientific experiment, no more than this, or at least that's what he told himself. Through all the things he'd seen, he miraculously still had enough of a conscious to know what they were doing was wr—who was he kidding? They'd done it before, and the result was another one of his soldiers standing just before him now; Captain America was the subject of one such test some time ago, and he was brilliant really. Best work of genetic engineering they'd managed to produce, without... well, to put it bluntly; consequences befitting of Bruce Banner's, but… lessened. The only thing though, that the blonde could argue, was that he'd given consent to be turned into what they had made him. The girl had come the way she was, and they were taking advantage of it, the director knew undeniably, somewhere deep in his mind… and if they wanted to start asking questions about just what other kinds of things they were hiding if this was one of them, things could get ugly quick.

On the other hand, he could keep it from them, but this situation left just as bitter of a taste in his mouth as did the last one. Having information is one thing, but not to use it is another; the fact was that Loki had attacked another base and stolen from them, and they needed to be better prepared if he'd found a way to use the girl to his advantage; worst yet, if she agreed to help him. Or what if he attacked another compound? They needed to find a pattern, see if the Tesseract had any connection to the subject, or if they had anything else with a connection to either of the two. Why the scientists at either base hadn't thought to think of these things before, Fury had nary a clue, but what he did know is that it's going to be a hell of a lot harder figuring those mentioned things out now with both missing. With this in mind, was there still a point to telling the team about the theft? He had his decision to make here and now, he noted duly as he watched over the five who were currently milling about, invested in their own doings for a quick meantime. He then stepped forward.

"Loki hit another base." He deemed to admit, pacing to the middle of the room as though he'd just stepped in with the news. He felt eyes that'd hadn't been before, instantly upon him as Tony and Banner were distracted from their readings at a computer, whilst the other three who were invested into a kind of conversation that of which the director probably didn't have a reason to care about, also had their attention turned towards the stern-voiced man in a mere second. In another, they were all onto their feet and off to hear the latest update, both Steve and Thor practically fit to burst with questions, meanwhile Tony was slightly annoyed that he hadn't the chance to ask them ahead of the old man and the god. However, it quickly became quite obvious the director wasn't interested in specifically answering a single one of them, when he continued, "The entire thing might as well have been destroyed; no survivors, nothing. Besides the one he stole, that is." He said simply, as if this were the kind of thing to happen on a daily basis. He might as well have wished it was, because then he could know how to deal with this situation. The others were silenced, intently eyeing the director and a little more patiently than others, awaiting him to continue.

"A top class prisoner, by the name of Sayuri Lin. She has some… information that would be best not getting out, much less given to your brother." He said, the last part obviously directed to Thor, who cast a glance down at his feet. He was both beyond embarrassed and saddened that he who had not been blood to him but still his brother, had taken more lives for the sake of a girl who could reveal no more to him than the Tesseract itself would, if the information he had gathered on it's abilities were true. In the end, the loss had been seemingly needless, and it was this reason that had the demigod so upset. Then again, if this were the case and Nick Fury knew this was the case then why was the information important? Why would it be so imperative that they knew this, rather than just leaving it to the fact that Loki, really in the end, had many of their enemies who had information that probably shouldn't be out there in the public eye? He continued to brood on this as the conversation ensued between the others.

"About the Tesseract?" Banner cut in, deeming this the logical way to go, though he himself was having some doubts about the information they were receiving.

"Yes, among other things. It will be imperative to find her immediately; if she chooses to help Loki, this war may well be lost." He hoped at least this would spike some kind of a fire under their asses about how serious this was rather than sitting around asking him questions he would very much rather not answer. It wasn't as if he didn't have the answers… actually, that may be incorrect, now that he thought about it. He might not have the answers at all; He didn't exactly care for the magical aspect of things much anymore, and seeing no longer that Lin was just some psychological phenomena, he couldn't say he well liked the look of how things were going so far. Whether this was because he couldn't imagine how things were going to continue from here, or because it was actually fairly foreboding, was something to be decided.

"As of now, finding the prisoner is top priority." He concluded, turning quickly from his spot in the middle of the room to step up to a computer, and typing some information into it's keyboard. It seemed it was Natasha's turn to ask a question now, as they were left in their own spots whilst the Director went to pull up pictures of whom, she presumed, was Sayuri Lin. She raised a single brow at the mentioned man as she spoke a bit of an edge in her voice while.

"Not the man who's killed eighty, no eighty-plus people?—and plans on killing more?" She stepped forward herself, the others quickly following her example to look over the director's shoulder at the pictures. Natasha pondered over the information for a moment or two; usually she was made aware of the top class prisoners. They usually didn't last for long, but in case of an escape they needed every able-bodied… well, anyone who could go looking for them. There were two answers in Natasha's mind; a. This prisoner was somehow a very serious threat, with globe-wide implications, or b. They didn't want anyone knowing of her. She could have sworn she recalled the name from Clint before, but Clint wasn't, at present, here. What could a girl like this have done to deserve the title of a world-class criminal? Fury could have kissed the Captain when he hadn't even given him the time to respond to Natasha's half question, where the other part was an apparent accusation on his character or intelligence.

"This is her?" Steve asked, sounding fairly surprised as he pointed to the screen where a pair of big blue eyes seemingly stared back at him, belonging to a pale girl with paler hair and a rounded face. She couldn't have been out of her teens, yet she was a first class prisoner, for such unknown and… vague reasons as having information that the organization obviously didn't want out. She'd sooner look like the picture of innocence than a top tier criminal… 'There's something wrong here' both the Captain and Tony thought collectively, though Tony for once in his life was remaining silent, not even a sarcastic comment waiting in his arsenal of such similar things, which was odd in and of itself for Tony, Fury silently noted as the billionaire remained thoughtful. With the bug he'd just manually installed on their system sometime prior, he'd have all the information he wanted, on the Tesseract _and_ the girl. SHIELD would be hard-pressed to trace it back to him in time. Was it a concern of his that maybe _he'd_ go missing, and end up a prisoner like this Sayuri? Maybe… were his chances of this happening so bad that he shouldn't? He certainly hoped not, but it wasn't going to stop him.

"Yes." The Director started in, "we're going to reroute the face-recognition tech to look for her instead. If we find her, we'll find Agent Barton and Selvig. Maybe even Loki, while we're at it." He said, now leaving the computer, but just as last time, he left the Avengers behind and to their own thoughts and questions spinning around in their heads, when Agent Hill came hurrying through the door. Fury stopped in his spot as the short-haired brunette made her way over to him, looking quite urgent. "Agent Hill?" He addressed her, finding obviously his plans for the escapee were probably to wait

"We have a match." She said firmly, before turning and leaving again, the Director and others following suit, pursuing her back through the door and back to the main room. To think if they'd had this discussion five minutes earlier they wouldn't have found Loki… All of their tech would have been focused on Lin instead and the warmonger would have gone on to do whatever it is he was doing and all it would have left them was a notification of more tragedy and loss that SHIELD would have to answer for.

"—Let him be your example…" Loki raised the spear, feeling the energy build-up resonating in the weapon, and reverberating well through the arm on which it sat, towards the man who had dared to speak against him. He couldn't say he disagreed with the Midgardian's point, in all actuality… humans were unruly. They often rebelled, and it didn't matter against whom, but only that they had a cause to fight; controlling them was difficult, proven evident by the fact he did have an individual disobeying his word even now. It was, however, a matter of making his presence known and creating a distraction for Agent Barton than it was anything personal—with him making noise here, all of SHIELD's attention would be drawn rather than them focusing on what was going on elsewhere in the world. For this, he would not be sorry for targeting the Midgardian elder, whose eyes had now gone wide with fear, ever so slightly shrinking back in realization this may be his last moment on this Earth. With this, Loki fired.

Of all the things the demigod had expected, to have his shot rebuffed back to him was not one of these things. Nothing more than a flash of red, white, and blue, and especially blue as the energy came bouncing off whom was obviously Captain America's shield, ricocheting back to him and knocking him clean off his feet. Loki spared a moment to think about the pain that he'd just inadvertently inflicted on himself, while his opponent stood back to his feet, and began a slow amble towards the villain. "You know, the last time I was in Germany, I saw a man standing above everybody else. We ended up disagreeing." He stopped about half of the way.

The trickster god pushed himself up from his place on the ground, sneering nastily when he flashed his glare to the mentioned patriot. "The Soldier…" He spat, though his tone was edged with a slight amusement, getting back on his own. "A man out of time…" He noted blankly how those he'd worked so hard to contain were now fleeing from the premises, leaving them to one another—besides of course, the jet that came rocketing into view which only stopped, hovering behind the army man, after pointing a gun in his direction that had formed from the undercarriage of the vehicle itself. "I'm not the one who's out of time." The man said with a little more confidence than Loki was fond of.

"Drop the weapon, Loki." A woman's voice resonated from the jet, and he found himself narrowing his eyes to get a better look at it's pilot. Scarlet hair… was this the one the archer had told him of? If it was… maybe he could eliminate an enemy or two here and now? He fired another bolt of energy at the flying vehicle, it quite disappointingly missing it's mark and continuing off into space to some unknown, and unfortunate, destination. The soldier took this time to swing his play thing of a shield at him next, which only served to bounce off his armor and stagger him enough for a single punch. The blow may have well been enough to cave in a Midgardian's skull, but for he, it may as well have been a slap from a Asgardian maiden. He was, in any case, put off by the strike, and so he bashed the curious shield, that somehow didn't crumple under his force (It was evidently as strong as it'd seemed from the view of the Tesseract) enough to knock the army man off balance before mercifully driving the blunt end of the staff into his stomach, sending him flying back a few feet, much to his amusement.

The patriot looked to him with a newly lit fire in his eyes, apparently having realized that you can only have the element of surprise for so long before it's usefulness wears off. He attempted to throw the shield once more, but in the predictability of the action, Loki swung the staff out once more, throwing it off it's track and batting it aside leaving the soldier without it's aid once more, until perhaps the trickster knocked him back over by it. Repeat? The demigod didn't have time to ponder it as he was rushed once more, dodging a hook. The two warriors swung at one another for a few quick seconds before the Captain finally landed another punch, but was unfortunately disregarded by the Asgardian, who used the victory against him to knock the other down onto the bricked ground once more. "Kneel…" the demigod breathed out, the blunt end of his staff pressed to the other's crown, giving him a chance to submit lest he do more damage on the poor soul before he is imminently captured. His doubts in his own auctioned were quickly gratified when the super soldier shoved the offending object from him, sending an aerial kick into Loki's chest, which did, admittedly, catch him off guard. Only was he angered, except, and took the mortal by the throat before chucking him off a good few feet, harshly back onto the ground that he'd become so acquainted with as of late in this singular fight. Loki actually found himself wondering if they'd have more of these tussles, him and this Captain America. They were quite enjoyable, really

Again, caught off guard, Loki looks up when he hears the blaring of what seems to be a song through the speakers that of which who he had assumed was Agent Romanoff's, seeing something streaking through the sky that reminds him much more of his brother than he'd like, but was only relieved when it had turned out to be the man in the suit of iron. Launched a few beams of energy back at him, Loki accepted the blow, deeming now a suitable time for his no less than planned surrender, but had miscalculated the force of which he was to be hit. He'd went flying back into the few stone stairs, groaning loudly as he did so. This had been what had hurt him, and he wondered for a moment whether the Captain had underestimated him, or was simply this weak… or perhaps unprepared? He remained seated in his spot as the man made his way to him, pointing what seemed to be every weapon in the suit's arsenal, or at least it's arms, at him. It was refreshing to see that _someone_ could pose a challenge to him…

"Make a move reindeer games." Well, wasn't he terribly clever?

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The beginning will be fairly similar to the movie, yes—it's not exactly a carbon copy so far (obviously) but I do realize that I did just take a scene from the original movie and write it out (Yes, this was everything I observed from the fight between Loki and Captain America. I never realized just how smacked around the Cap' got until now. O-o) Once we get further into it and the oracle has a bit more screen time, though, I can start writing my own story, and then we can really have some fun! :)


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